Full Circle
by Andra Marie Mueller
Summary: A seemingly routine investigation for Mulder and Doggett uncovers an unexpected connection to the unresolved murder of Luke Doggett.


" **FULL CIRCLE"**

 **By**

 **Andra Marie Mueller**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE** : This is the third story in a series that began with "Reunion" and "Legacy". The story concept and all original dialogue/characters were taken from the 9th season episode "Release" by John Shiban and David Amann, which along with all things X Files belong to 20th Century Fox, Ten Thirteen Productions, etc. All other characters belong to me and inhabit an XF universe of my own creation. J

" _The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." –_ **Psalms 34:18**

Blackness. The stillness of the night was broken by a slight fizzle as some unknown insect met its fate upon colliding with a heated street lamp. In an empty neighborhood with litter strewn streets and abandoned buildings, a nondescript sedan slowly rolled to halt in front of a boarded, windowless apartment building. The car's lone occupant was John Doggett, who glanced at a note he held in his hand before shifting his gaze to the deserted building. He stared at the building for a moment in silence before removing his seatbelt and exiting the car to make his way inside. The interior was as unwelcoming as the exterior, the stench of old garbage and other odors better left unidentified causing his stomach to churn.

"This place needs some serious air freshener," he muttered to himself.

Near the entrance a pair of glass doors beckoned him, and he made his way across the litter and shards of glass and timber to carefully open one of the doors. Stepping inside what was once the main lobby, Doggett flicked on the small flashlight he carried and took a cursory survey of his surroundings. Far to his right, he spotted an open door leading to the stairwell, and strode across the room to make his way upstairs. The door allowing access to the second floor was locked, so Doggett made his way up another flight and found the third-floor access door slightly ajar. Shining his light in either direction, he discovered nothing more than puddles of water and additional trash lining the corridor. Glancing again at the note he carried, he confirmed the apartment number before shifting his light to focus on the doors. A barely legible "311" was etched on the door of a corner apartment, and he tucked the note in his pocket before giving the door a firm push. The unlocked door swung open, and Doggett had barely taken two steps inside before a figure suddenly bolted out of the darkness to collide with him, knocking him to the ground as it fled into the corridor.

"Hey! Come back here!"

Doggett climbed to his feet and stepped back into the corridor, but the figure in the shadows had vanished. Releasing a frustrated sigh, he brushed himself off as he retreated into the apartment. As he scanned the room, the stillness of the night was broken again by a slight scratching noise.

"Is someone here?" Doggett called out.

No verbal response was forthcoming, but the scratching continued, and he followed the noise to its source. The adjacent bedroom was as dismal as the rest of the apartment: carpets ripped off the floor, debris scattered about. The walls were free of any adornment, yet it was apparent that the scratching was coming from within them. Walking over to stand less than a foot away from the east wall, the increase in volume of the scratching sound made it obvious he had found the source of the noise. Clamping his small flashlight between his teeth, he gently placed his hand against the wall, only to come away with still wet white paint on his palm.

"What the hell…?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

Using both hands, he quickly began to dig at the wall, tearing through the wet paint and plaster, then stopped when it suddenly turned bright red. Frowning, he stepped backward and took his flashlight in hand to shine it at the center of the red spot. His confusion turned to horror as the spot widened and thin rivulets of bright red blood began to stream down the wall.

 **FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA**

"Daddy, Daddy! Wake up!"

"Yeah, Daddy; get up!"

The sound of the familiar voices penetrated Doggett's subconscious, and he slowly opened his eyes to discover his twins Grace and Matthew standing beside his bed. At two years old, they were already miniature versions of their parents, although both had inherited Doggett's ice blue eyes in lieu of Jessica's dark blue ones. Flashing them a sleepy smile, he eased himself to a sitting position as greeted them.

"Hey, guys. What's up?"

"Mommy says it's time for you to wake up," Matthew told him.

"She says if we come back without you she's gonna feed your pancakes to Spooky and Semper Fi," Grace added.

Doggett's smile widened, as the family's two overly large Saint Bernards would indeed relish the chance to devour a plate of pancakes. "Well then we'd better hurry and get downstairs so she doesn't do that," he conceded.

Tossing the covers aside, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, and each of his children grabbed hold of his hands before the trio headed downstairs. Wandering into the kitchen, he smiled at the sight of Jessica talking to their dogs.

"Don't think staring at me with those puppy dog eyes is going to get you boys any pancakes," she chided. "This is people food, not dog food."

"Then why were you threatenin' to give them my breakfast if the kids couldn't get me up?" Doggett asked.

Jessica glanced over her shoulder and flashed her husband a warm smile. "Because I knew it would work," she replied.

As the twins settled themselves at the table, he crossed the kitchen and leaned over to give her a gentle kiss. "Mornin', beautiful."

"Good morning, yourself," Jessica responded, and handed him a mug of hot coffee. "You got in pretty late. Everything okay?"

Doggett took a sip of coffee before answering. "Everything's fine; I was just followin' up a lead I got about a de…" He halted briefly in mid-sentence to steal a glance at the children, who were too busy devouring their pancakes to pay him any attention, then lowered his voice before continuing. "A dead body in one of the deserted buildings in downtown D.C."

"Well unless it was one of E.T.'s long lost cousins, it doesn't sound like much of an X file," Jessica remarked. "And isn't that more Metro's jurisdiction than the Bureau's anyway?"

He shrugged. "It's not the first time I've been directed to a case that on the surface has no real import for the FBI. I asked Dana to handle the autopsy, so hopefully she'll find something relevant."

She nodded in acknowledgement before handing him a plate stacked with pancakes. "Well enough shop talk," she declared. "Sit down and have breakfast with our children. I'm going to take the dogs for a quick walk around the block then I'll be back to drop the kids off at Sarah's."

"Just out of curiosity, why did you send the twins in to wake me instead of doin' it yourself?"

She gave him a knowing smile. "Because the idea was to get you out of bed, not give you a reason to stay in it."

"Good point."

 **QUANTICO**

Inside one of the exam rooms of the morgue, Scully and a group of her students were gathered around a naked female corpse lying on the steel table in the center of the room. As the cadets clutched the file folders they each held, their attention shifted between the corpse and Scully as she addressed them.

"Jane Doe, found last night entombed in a tenement wall by an agent acting on an anonymous tip. Time of death was approximately 2100 hours; the presumed cause the three stab wounds to her abdomen. Dirt and clay were found under the nails on her right hand."

"What are those lacerations on her hands and feet?" one of the cadets, an attractive young brunette named Marie Riese, inquired.

"Predation from rats," Scully explained. "The agent was led to the body by the sound of their feeding."

The group gave a collective, silent shudder at the image.

"Anyone care to venture a theory as to how Jane Doe got into the wall, or how the dirt and clay got under her nails?" Scully prompted, and when the group remained silent, repeated, "Anyone?"

"She was killed someplace else," Marie offered. "She clawed at the dirt before succumbing to her injuries."

"That's likely," Scully allowed. "The same dirt was found on the soles of her shoes." She flashed Marie a faint smile of encouragement before continuing. "What else can help us ID this victim and/or find her killer?"

The cadets fell into another group silence, but after a moment one of them spoke up.

"Isn't it obvious?"

The question came from Rudolph Hayes, an attractive but eerily stoic young African American male appearing to be about thirty years old.

"What's obvious?" Scully prompted.

Hayes gestured at the corpse's hands. "The chipped nail polish, the drugstore hair rinse. This is a single woman, unemployed. That's why no one has ID'd her. There was alcohol in her system?"

It was more of a statement, not a question, but Scully answered, "Her blood alcohol level was point zero four."

Hayes' expression indicated he had expected that. "She hooked up with the wrong man in a bar. He killed her, probably in the parking lot. This man has killed before."

"And you know that because?" Scully prompted with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Hayes again gestured at the corpse, his tone even but not boastful as he spoke. "That bruise beneath her ribs. It's from the hilt of a knife. The killer intended a single blow, the blade thrusting upward at a forty-five-degree angle into the heart, causing death instantly. But she struggled, so he missed. Then he got mad and stabbed her three times in the stomach. Like I said, obvious."

Hayes finished his hypothesis and fell silent, unaffected by the stunned silence and astonished looks he was receiving from Scully and the other cadets.

Once the cadets had left the room, Scully enlisted the help of one of the morgue assistants to retrieve the body of another Jane Doe she had examined earlier in the day. Parking the gurney alongside the table where Jane Doe #2 lay, Scully unzipped the body bag until she reached the abdomen of Jane Doe #1. Carefully pulling the side of the bag down, she focused her attention on the ribcage and as expected, found a single knife wound two inches below the rib cage. She stared at the wound for a moment before shifting her attention to Jane Doe #2 and finding the identical wound on the other woman confirmed her suspicions. They had been murdered by the same man.

"How the hell did Hayes know that?" she wondered aloud.

Scully was in her office on the phone when the door opened to admit Mulder and Doggett.

"Scully?" Mulder prompted.

Cradling the receiver against her shoulder, Scully motioned for them to come in as she finished her phone conversation.

"I got it. Thank you very much."

Doggett stepped forward as she hung up the phone. "You found something?"

"Quite a lot, actually."

The redhead picked up a folder from her desk and handed it to Doggett, who began to read through it as she continued.

"We've identified your Jane Doe as Ellen Persich, 28, of Redland, Maryland."

"How did you make the ID so fast?" Mulder asked.

Scully handed a second report to Doggett.

"The bar she was at last night was only a half mile from where another woman, Rita Shaw, was murdered two weeks ago, apparently by the same killer.

"You're saying the body John found was the second victim?" Mulder queried.

Reading from the report, Doggett shook his head. "It says here Rita Shaw was found in ditch, dead from a single knife wound. The woman I found was plastered behind a wall, stabbed three times – "

"I know," Scully interrupted. "That's why I didn't make the connection, either. But that was the lab on the phone just now; they confirm the same knife was used in both killings."

Doggett exchanged a look with Mulder. There was no arguing with Scully's conclusion, yet both men remained skeptical.

"How did you make the connection?" Mulder questioned.

"Like I said, I didn't at first. One of my students realized the killer only meant to stab John's victim once. The other wounds were from anger after he missed."

"That's a pretty astute observation," Mulder replied.

"Amazingly so," Scully concurred. "I'd say this young man has a future at the Bureau."

Doggett was still unconvinced. "This cadet got any other answers up his sleeve?"

"Like what?" Scully asked.

"I want to know why someone tipped me off to this case in the first place. This isn't an X file, not by a long shot."

Scully shrugged. "I don't know, John. But now that you've got this case, I suggest you run with it."

 **FORENSIC TRAINING FACILITY – JOPLIN, VIRGINIA**

In the middle of a large field designed for studying body decomposition, Hayes was one of two dozen cadets wandering the grounds, which were littered with a number of corpses and decaying body parts. Crouching beside a severed arm, Hayes reached over with one gloved hand and picked it up, studying it for a moment.

"Cadet Rudolph Hayes?" Doggett called out.

At the sound of his name, he glanced over his shoulder to see Mulder and Doggett approach. He barely afforded them an acknowledging glance before returning his attention to the severed arm.

"I'm Agent Doggett, this is Agent Mulder."

"I know who you are," Hayes responded, his attention still focused on the detached limb he held.

"Someone tell you we'd be comin'?" Doggett asked.

"No one had to," Hayes countered. "I saw your names on the case report."

Lifting the severed arm to his nose, Hayes sniffed at it a couple of times, like a dog smelling a new scent. Mulder and Doggett exchanged a look – torn between amusement and disgust at the younger man's odd behavior.

"That part of the training here, Cadet?" Mulder asked dryly. "Smelling body parts?"

Hayes gestured with the severed arm. "This man's flesh smells of creosote, but his skin is soft, untanned. He worked indoors. A hardware store, probably. The tear marks at his elbow go from left to right. He was broadsided in a car accident. His hands gripped the wheel so hard his thumb bone snapped on impact."

Done with his dissertation, and the severed arm, Hayes replaced it on the ground before rising to his feet.

"You determine all of that just by lookin' at that arm?" Doggett prompted.

Hayes shrugged. "I see things."

Mulder raised an eyebrow, but Doggett studied the man, impressed.

"We came to thank you," Mulder said. "Because of your analysis, we've been able to work up a profile, which will help us catch the man who murdered these women."

"What's the profile?" Hayes inquired.

"White male, 25 to 35, ex-military, employed near the bars where he met these women – " Doggett stopped in mid-sentence when Hayes gave a shake of his head. "Why are you shakin' your head?"

"The profile is wrong," Hayes told him. "Your killer is in his 40's, a felon recently arrived from out of state. His parole officer thinks he's looking for a job, but he already has one, working for organized crime."

Mulder and Doggett stared at Hayes, trying to assess how much credibility to give his apparent omniscience. After a brief pause, Hayes spoke again.

"He's killed many people, and he's going to keep on killing. It's what he does; it's who he is."

On that final note, Hayes turned and walked away, leaving Mulder and Doggett to stare at his retreating form.

"Kind of annoying, isn't he?" Mulder asked rhetorically.

Without waiting for a response, he turned to leave, heading in the direction from whence he and Doggett came. But his brother-in-law lingered, looking after Hayes, wondering about him. After a moment, he hurried to catch up with Mulder.

 **GEORGETOWN**

With a book bag slung over his shoulder, Hayes walked down the dimly lit hallway of his apartment building and reaching his door, turned the key in the lock and stepped inside. The room was sparsely furnished, and the only source of natural light in the room was a partially covered window at the opposite end of the room. After closing the door behind him, he switched on a nearby lamp before reaching into his book bag. He withdrew a file and pulled ou photo of Ellen Persich, the murder victim Scully had autopsied. Crossing over to the wall, he pinned it in place and started at it a moment before retreating into another room, leaving the picture to reside among the dozens of others just like it covering the walls.

 **MARK MOONEY'S BAR – WASHINGTON D.C.**

The indiscernible dialogue from a television above the bar and the muffled clink of glasses being raised from and replaced on the bar were the only sounds that greeted Mulder and Doggett when they entered the bar. Still dressed in business attire, they looked oddly out of place in the grunginess of the working-class establishment. Scanning the room, Mulder found what - or rather whom – he was seeking and lightly touched Doggett's arm to get his attention. The ex-Marine followed his gaze and spotted a dark-haired man roughly his own age dragging on a cigarette and nursing a half full glass of amber liquor. His body language practically radiated "Don't touch", and given his sole claim over his side of the bar the other patrons were obviously getting the message. Pulling out a picture from his jacket, Doggett glanced at it and recognized the man in the mug shot as the same one seated at the bar. Exchanging a look with Mulder, he approached the man with his partner a half step behind him.

"Nicholas Regali?" Doggett prompted.

"Who wants to know?" Regali responded as he exhaled a mouthful of smoke.

Mulder and Doggett withdrew their badges and flashed them at Regali. "I'm Agent Doggett, this is Agent Mulder."

Regali barely glanced at them, but from the corner of his eye he noticed they were pocketing their badges and half-turned to face them. "Not so fast, Agents. I want to read 'em."

Mulder and Doggett traded another look, and pulled their badges back out, dutifully holding them up for Regali's perusal. He took another long drag from his cigarette before leaning forward to read them.

"John J. Doggett…Fox Mulder…what the hell kind of name is Fox?"

Long used to the varied reactions to his unusual name, Mulder ignored Regali's question and he and Doggett replaced their badges in their pockets. As Doggett watched in stony silence, Mulder took the lead.

"Mister Regali, you're in town in violation of the terms of your parole back in New York…"

"Call my parole officer," Regali interrupted. "She'll tell you I'm here looking for work."

Doggett glanced at Mulder – this was Hayes' profile, exactly.

"Do you come here often, Mister Regali?" Mulder asked. "Like last night, when Ellen Persich got murdered in the parking lot out back?"

Regali shrugged with feigned indifference. "Last night? I don't remember."

"Maybe you remember running into Agent Doggett after plastering her body into the wall of a tenement in southeast D.C."

He shrugged again. "Like you say, I'm an out of towner."

Mulder pressed on. "Bartender at Bent Oak says you were there two weeks ago. That same night, a woman named Rita Shaw got stabbed in the heart."

Regali snorted and set his butt down in the ashtray. "You folks don't know what you're dealing with…"

Doggett wordlessly lifted Regali's still burning cigarette out of the ashtray and dropped it into his glass of whiskey. Regali stared at his now contaminated drink for a moment as he reigned in his anger.

"You don't want to play this game, flatfoot. Not with me. Bartender, another whiskey."

"You like to kill women, Mister Regali," Doggett said. "Maybe you think you'll get away with it, you bein' a mob guy and all. But that's not gonna happen."

The bartender set a fresh drink in front of Regali and he picked it up as he shook his head. "You boys really don't know what you're dealing with…"

"I think we do," Doggett countered coldly.

Still avoiding eye contact, Regali raised his glass in a mock toast. "Agent Doggett, Agent Mulder."

He took a sip of his drink as Mulder and Doggett turned to leave, waiting until their backs were to him before smiling to himself at some private joke.

 **GEORGETOWN**

Inside his apartment, Hayes stepped to the window and pushed the curtain aside to stare out at the street lamp directly adjacent to his building. He stared at it in silence for several minutes as if waiting to receive a message. Finally, he turned away from the window and settled himself on top of the mattress residing in the center of the room. After making himself comfortable, he shifted his gaze to his walls of photos, searching the pictures from autopsies and crime scenes until one particular group caught his eye. They were several shots of the same image: a young blond boy lying face down on a patch of grass, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, surrounded by various uniformed and professionally attired personnel. The center photo was of a man in his mid-thirties, his face contorted with grief as he stared at the lifeless body of his only son, and the light from the street lamp illuminated the picture just enough to clearly display the pain ravaged features of John Doggett.

 **FALLS CHURCH**

Jessica was asleep on the couch when Doggett arrived home, the television volume lowered to avoid waking the twins. Semper Fi was sprawled on the floor beside the couch, also apparently sound asleep, and Doggett assumed Spooky to be upstairs in the twins' room maintaining his nightly vigil. Switching off the television, he walked over to the couch and knelt down to his wife. As he reached over to place his hand on her shoulder, he noticed that she was wearing the T-shirt Mulder had given to her the Christmas the twins had been born. Based on a running joke between Mulder and Doggett, it was a plain gray shirt that declared in black letters "Property of John Doggett".

 _One of these days he's gonna get payback for that_ , Doggett mused silently, and gave his wife's shoulder a gentle shake. "Jess, sweetheart, wake up," he whispered.

Blinking a few times to clear her vision, the lieutenant flashed him a sleepy smile. "Hi, Sunshine. You missed dinner."

"I'm sorry," Doggett apologized. "Mulder and I had to go have a chat with a suspect in the murder case we're investigatin'."

Jessica's elegant features crinkled in disgust as she caught the smell of smoke and stale liquor surrounding her husband. "From the smell of you, it must have taken place in the local brewery," she remarked.

"Something like that," he allowed.

"Why don't you go upstairs to shower and change and I'll make you up a plate of leftovers," she offered. "Afterward you can show me how sorry you are that you were late."

He smiled at the intimation. "I guess that would be what's for dessert."

"Not unless you get rid of that smell."

"Right."

As Jessica wandered into the kitchen, Doggett quietly made his way upstairs, and after a brief check on the children, headed into the master bedroom. As he passed by the dresser, a small picture near the edge caught his attention. Nestled among the various photos of Jessica and John and the twins, the simple silver frame held a picture of Luke, taken shortly before his death, his smiling face radiating joy. Looking at his son's happy face, Doggett felt the familiar pang of grief pierce his heart. Replacing the picture, he started toward the bathroom when an idea suddenly flashed through his head, stopping him in his tracks and causing him to glance back over at his son's picture. He stared at Luke's image for a moment, the idea planting its roots into his brain, and then he resumed his trek toward the bathroom. Lost in thought, he did not notice his wife hovering in the doorway, her expression a cross between curiosity and concern as she watched him retreat into the other room.

 _For some reason this case he's working on must be resurrecting his memories of Luke,_ she musedsilently. _I only hope we don't start down that same road to self-destruction we did nine years ago_.

 **FBI HEADQUARTERS**

Inside the basement office he shared with Reyes and Mulder, Doggett was engrossed in a case file when a sixth sense suddenly told him he was being watched. Glancing up, he discovered Hayes standing silently in the doorway.

"How long you been standin' there, Cadet?"

"Not long," Hayes answered.

 _Too weird._ The thought popped into Doggett's mind unbidden, but he let it pass and closed the folder he had been reading. "Thanks for droppin' by. I wanted to tell you we hit pay dirt with your profile. No arrest yet, but we're buildin' our case."

"Doctor Scully already told me," Hayes revealed.

"Right."

They fell into an awkward silence then, yet something else was obviously on Doggett's mind, something he was unable to find the words for to express aloud.

"There's something else," Hayes said matter of factly.

"Yes." Doggett took a deep breath. "I got another case I want you to look at. An unsolved murder."

Hayes met the older man's gaze unblinking, expressionless, and Doggett continued.

"An eight-year-old boy rides his bike around the block. His mom watches from the porch, countin' his laps for him. He waves to her each time he goes by. After six laps, he doesn't come around again. His mom goes lookin' for him, but all she finds is his bike, lyin' on the sidewalk."

He paused then, attempting to keep his dissertation impersonal but realizing that was simply impossible. His face contorted with remembered pain, he continued.

"No witnesses, no ransom demands. No clues as to who took him or why. The cops go door to door, block to block. For two days there's nothing; no news at all. But the parents are cops too, so the FBI gets involved."

At this point it was clear that Hayes knew Doggett was speaking about himself, but he remained impassive as Doggett poured out his story.

"On the third day, they find him…they find his body. In a field."

He stopped then, unable to bring the story to its obvious and anguished conclusion. Instead he reached behind him and retrieved the file folder he had been reading from his desk.

"It's all in here. All the particulars about…my son."

Still no reaction from Hayes.

"I've been over it I don't know how many times. So have a lot of good people. But after nine years, there's not much to go on. You were a big help on that case yesterday. If you see anything in here..."

Doggett held out the file, but Hayes made no move to take it, and kept his gaze locked to Doggett's.

"Agent Doggett, that case I helped with yesterday…it is your son's case."

That was certainly the last thing Doggett expected to hear, and he was stunned into silence. Hayes regarded him for a moment before replying, "There's something I think you should see."

Stepping inside his apartment, Hayes clicked on the light, and then stepped aside to allow Doggett a full view of his "wall of death". Torn between horror and surprise, Doggett posed a question to Hayes without shifting his gaze from the photographs.

"What is all this?"

"Unsolved murders," Hayes answered. "I started collecting them before I came to the FBI. I couldn't tell you why."

"What do you do with them?"

"If I sit with them for a long time, very quietly….they tell me things." He paused. "That's how I see what I see."

By now Doggett had discovered the photos of himself and Luke, and he felt a lump suddenly lodge in his throat as he spoke. "You've been followin' my son's case."

"For a long time now," Hayes allowed. "He calls to me."

Doggett glanced over his shoulder. Although a skeptic by nature, he could not help but be affected by hearing this strange man speak to his deepest desire – justice for his murdered son. But unwilling to completely accept Hayes' insight, he replied, "Cadet, you should know there's a real good chance that you're nuts."

The younger man ignored the jibe, and instead pulled a photo out of a file folder and handed it to Doggett. "You recognize this man."

Doggett glanced at the picture, a mug shot of a man identified by the placard he held as "Robert Harvey". "Yeah, I recognize him. Bob Harvey's the closest we ever had to a suspect."

"He died. Four years ago, in New Orleans, he was killed in a car crash."

"Are you sayin' he did it?" Doggett asked. "Are you sayin' this man killed my son?"

"He took him. He didn't kill him."

"But you know who did," Doggett added, and off Hayes' look, pressed, "You sayin' that the guy who killed these women is the same guy who killed my son? This guy Regali?"

Hayes hesitated a moment before responding. "It's going to be difficult to prove, Agent Doggett. But that's why I brought you here."

"To prove that Regali killed my son."

"Yes."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

Hayes gaze flickered to the photos on the wall. "Your own ghosts speak to you, Agent Doggett. Start listening to them."

 **FBI HEADQUARTERS**

Inside his office overlooking the streets of the nation's capital, Assistant Director Brad Follmer stood at the window, glancing outside as he used the glass as a makeshift mirror to adjust his tie. Just as he finished knotting it, he noticed another reflection overlap his and he glanced around to face his visitor.

"Agent Doggett," he greeted simply.

"Assistant Director. Can I have a minute?"

"Now's not a good time. I'm off to a meeting with Director Mueller."

"This can't wait," Doggett replied.

"And the Director can?"

Doggett offered no response, nor did he move from his position in the doorway, and his expression made it clear he had no intention of doing so. Releasing a sigh, Follmer glanced at his watch before addressing Doggett. "You've got one minute, Agent."

"When you were in New York, when you were workin' the organized crime task force, did you ever hear of a guy by the name of Nicholas Regali?"

Follmer ran the name through his head, trying to remember. "Yeah, he was a collector, a low-level thug. Why do you ask, Agent Doggett?"

Doggett ignored his question and asked another of his own. "When the New York office was investigatin' my son's death, did his name ever come up as a suspect?"

"Why would it?" Follmer returned. "Do you have reason to believe he was involved?"

"I got no evidence," Doggett demurred, "but somebody's tellin' me he was mixed up with the suspect in my son's kidnappin', Bob Harvey."

Follmer shook his head. "I never heard that, Agent Doggett, and I'm sure I'd remember."

Stifling a sigh, Doggett nodded in silent acknowledgement, disappointment etched in his rugged features. Despite the latent antagonism between the two, Follmer could not help but feel for the other man.

"Look, let me ask around, pull some files. I'll see what I can find, all right?"

"I'd appreciate it, Assistant Director."

Doggett left as silently as he had come, and Follmer watched him go, concern evident on his face.

 _Who the hell could be feeding Doggett information about his son's case nine years after the fact?_

In the hallway, Doggett was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear his name being called until the speaker was practically on top of him.

"John..."

Doggett turned to see Reyes catching up with him.

"Mulder and I have been looking all over for you," she said. "Where have you been?"

"Chasin' down leads," he evaded.

"We were supposed to meet in the office this morning, remember?"

Doggett gave her a blank look.

"To go over what we have on Regali?"

Doggett frowned. "Sorry. I guess I kinda got caught up."

"Did you find something?" Reyes asked. "A link between Regali and the women?"

The women. Doggett had not been thinking about the women or the case itself, and Reyes read it in his expression.

"John, are you even working on this case?" Reyes pressed.

"I am. I'm just…comin' at it from a different angle."

"What kind of angle?"

He allowed himself a small sigh. "I think this guy Regali may have been involved in Luke's death."

Reyes could not have been more surprised if Doggett had suddenly sprouted a second head and revealed himself to be one of the aliens Mulder had spent half his life searching to find.

"Where did that come from?"

"Since Mulder and I talked to Cadet Hayes," Doggett clarified, stifling his frustration at her skeptical expression. "Look, it's a long story, but the bottom line is, Hayes says Regali knew Bob Harvey, that they were in on it together."

"How could he possibly know that?"

"How does he know half the stuff he knows?" Doggett countered. "I did some diggin', and it turns out Regali and Bob Harvey both did time at Wallkill in 1996."

"So did a thousand other men," Reyes pointed out. "That doesn't mean they knew each other."

"I tracked Regali's credit card use, Monica. The day Luke disappeared, he gassed up his car two miles from my house."

"Regali's not exactly a face that blends into a crowd, John. If he had been near your house that day, Jessica would have seen him."

"Not if he met up with Harvey after he snatched Luke."

Reyes' voice was gentle as she responded. "I'm not sure what Hayes said to you or why he said it, John, but this isn't evidence. Not even close." A pause. "I'll never know how badly it hurt you to lose your son, or how much pain you still carry. And I understand how much you want to find his killer. But I don't want to see you disappointed – not again."

"That's not gonna happen," Doggett declared firmly. "Not this time."

Without giving Reyes a chance to respond, he turned and walked away. Reyes watched him go, half-considering going after him. But since his remarriage to Jessica there were some lines she could no longer cross, and she decided to seek out someone else to intervene. Retracing her steps to the elevator, she rode it down to the basement and wandered down the hall into the X files office. Mulder was seated at his desk signing his name to a case file when she returned and glanced up expectantly.

"Did you find John?" Mulder asked.

"Unfortunately," Reyes responded. "This Cadet Hayes, the one that's been so helpful with the Regali murder case, has somehow convinced John that Regali was in on Luke's abduction with Bob Harvey."

"Since when?"

"I'm as clueless about it as you are, but John's determined to prove that Regali was at least partly responsible for killing Luke."

Mulder sighed. "Whenever he gets his brain wrapped around something, he's like a pit bull with a bone," he remarked. "He just won't let it go until he's chewed it to pieces."

"Well he obviously hasn't said anything to Jessica yet, because she would have mentioned it to you and Dana," Reyes demurred. "But if he really is going to head down that road, it's only a matter of time before he does tell Jessica."

"And when he does, the shit's gonna hit the fan."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"If John wanted me to know about it he would have told me," Mulder stated. "I love my sister and John's like a brother to me, but I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't interfere with their personal business. All I can do is be there when they need me if this theory about Regali turns out to have even a grain of truth to it."

"And if it does?" Reyes prompted.

"Then God help him, because Doggett won't let him live to see another sunrise."

Reyes' automatic response was "John's not capable of cold blooded murder", but she checked herself a split second before blurting it out. She knew better now.

She had not been part of the rescue party Doggett's former Marine unit had organized to retrieve Jessica from Mexico after her abduction thirty months ago, and the file on the case had been deemed "Classified". But she had seen the change in attitude that Mulder had displayed toward his brother-in-law upon their return, and she had finagled enough tidbits from Scully to know that there was at least some truth in the rumors that had floated about the Bureau for weeks afterward. Of a dark side to John Doggett, developed and nurtured during his time in the military. It was a side that surfaced only when Jessica or their children were threatened, and it showed no mercy; it took no prisoners.

So she stifled her natural impulse to defend him and remained silent, hoping against hope that Hayes wasn't as omniscient as he appeared to be.

 **ALEXANDRIA POLICE DEPARTMENT**

Jessica was sequestered in her office reviewing some paperwork when her private line rang. Stifling a sigh, she reached over to pick up the receiver.

"Jessica Doggett."

"It's me, sweetheart."

"Hey, Sunshine. Shouldn't you and Fox be out pursuing truth, justice and the American way?"

"There's something I need to discuss with you. Any chance you could pull rank and cut outta there early so we can talk?"

The casualness of his tone belied the import of his request. In the 30+ years she had known him, Jessica could count on one hand the number of times he had asked her to leave work early to deal with personal business. He was too calm for there to be an emergency with the twins, and if harm had befallen Mulder or Scully, Doggett would have delivered the news in person.

 _I hope this doesn't have anything to do with why he was so intent on Luke's picture last night_ , she mused in uneasy silence. Aloud she said, "I suppose this paperwork can wait until tomorrow. Do you want me to meet you at your office or at home?"

"I'll meet you at home."

"I'll see you there."

 **FALLS CHURCH**

Doggett was already home and had changed into casual clothes by the time Jessica arrived, and was leaning against the kitchen sink sipping at a cup of coffee. The dogs greeted her at the door, and she gave them each a brief pat before tossing her coat and purse on the couch and walking into the kitchen to join her husband.

"Hey you," she greeted and gave him a quick kiss.

"Do you want some coffee?" Doggett offered.

"Thanks, but I'd rather have you tell me what's so important that I had to leave work early."

He sighed. "It's about Luke."

"I had a feeling it might be," Jessica said. "I saw you studying his picture last night and assumed that this case you and Fox are working on has somehow brought up memories of his death."

Doggett nodded, almost reluctant to continue but not having a choice. "I got a suspect."

Jessica felt her heart skip a beat. "John…"

Her tone in the simple speaking of his name conveyed her frustration and fear over where the conversation was going to lead.

"I know, Jess; I know. But this time it's different…"

"Is it?" his wife countered. "'He could be the one'…'He might be the one'…I can't go through this again, John. I don't know how you can."

Doggett offered no response.

"I want to find out the truth about what happened to Luke just as badly as you do, but I can't go through losing him all over again. It nearly destroyed us the first time, and now we have the twins to consider. I won't let them get caught up in that kind of emotional roller coaster."

"Look, this guy could have been cruisin' the neighborhood," Doggett began. "You could've seen him."

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"I've got a gut feeling about this guy, Jess. I've seen him, talked to him. I really think he's the one."

"What about Bob Harvey?"

"If what I've been told is accurate, they were in on it together."

The lieutenant rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like Fox, finding conspiracies around every corner," she muttered in exasperation. "I don't know who is feeding you all of this new information, or where they hell they were nine years ago when Luke disappeared, but I don't want any part of it."

"I wouldn't be bringin' all of this up if I weren't sure it was gonna lead somewhere," Doggett replied. "I've asked A.D. Follmer to do some checkin' with his contacts in New York, but in the meantime I figured maybe there's a chance you'd actually recognize this guy."

"We went through this nine years ago, John. I didn't see any strangers in the neighborhood that day, and I didn't find anything unusual other than Luke's bicycle lying on the pavement with him nowhere in sight."

"Maybe you did, and at the time you just didn't remember cuz it was all so raw…"

"Why are you pushing this?" Jessica demanded.

"Because I need to know the truth!" Doggett responded heatedly. "I was there when they found him, Jess ; lyin' in that field as limp as rag doll. When I close my eyes at night I can still see him there."

"And when I close my eyes, I can still see him lying on the autopsy table in the morgue," Jessica countered quietly.

Doggett shot her a surprised glance. "What are you talkin' about?"

Her elegant features contorted with remembered pain, Jessica answered, "When you went to the Bureau's field office that afternoon with Monica to sign off on the case, I called Duke Tomasick and asked him to take me down to the coroner's office. I had convinced myself that you and the agents had somehow made a mistake, and that the little boy you found wasn't Luke. I decided that I would go down there and see the body for myself, and then I could tell you that it had all been some horrible misunderstanding."

"Duke never told me he took you to see the body," Doggett said evenly.

"I swore him to secrecy. We went down to the coroner's office and one of the pathologists took us into the room where they were preparing him for the autopsy. He was so pale, and so bruised, that at first I didn't recognize him. But when I got close enough, I saw that his hair was blonde, and I recognized the scar on his forehead that he got after falling off his bike the first time. That was when I realized that he was really dead. I'd never see him smile again, or share an ice cream cone, or hear him call me 'Mommy'."

Her voice cracked as she finished her confession and she took a deep breath to steady herself as she wiped away the tears streaming down her face. By now Doggett's own eyes were filled with tears and he asked in a near whisper, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"There was never any reason for you to know," Jessica said. "And frankly I wasn't sure how you would react to the news. I was already drowning in guilt because I had failed to protect him in the first place; the idea of telling you that I went behind your back because I wouldn't accept your word that he was gone seemed like pouring salt into an open wound."

"What happened to Luke wasn't your fault, Jess; I've never felt otherwise."

"I know that, now. But nine years ago we were hurting so much that our normal rationale didn't come into play. Losing Luke on top of the two miscarriages…for a time I believed that God didn't want us to be parents."

"Sweet Jesus, Jess…you know that's not true."

"To be brutally honest, until I successfully carried the twins I was never entirely sure," Jessica responded. "And now I'd just as soon not tempt Fate by revisiting old ghosts."

He held her gaze in silence for a long moment before replying. "The last thing I want is to cause you more pain; I'd rather cut off my own arm than see you suffer. But you're the closest thing we got to a witness, sweetheart, and one way or another we need to know."

"Walking down this road cost us our marriage nine years ago, John. I can't understand why you're willing to risk that again."

Doggett closed the distance between them and lifted his hands to gently but firmly cup her face in his palms. "That's not gonna happen this time, Jess. I swear to God I won't let it. I love you, and you and the kids are my life. But we owe it to Luke and ourselves to find out what really happened all those years ago."

With fresh tears welling in her eyes, Jessica offered no verbal response, but her expression gave Doggett all the answer he needed and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

 **WASHINGTON D.C.**

Entering the townhouse he shared with Scully and Will, Mulder tossed his coat on the couch and his keys on the entry table before going in search of his wife. He found Scully upstairs, standing over William's bed as she finished putting him down for the night.

"Hey, you," he greeted softly.

Scully glanced over her shoulder and flashed him a warm smile. "Hey yourself," she returned. "When did you get home?"

"Just now."

He walked over to stand behind her and slid his arms around her waist to pull her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head. They stood there in silence for a moment, enjoying the serenity of the moment as they gazed down at their sleeping son. After a moment, Mulder spoke first.

"Have I thanked you lately for our son?" he asked softly.

Scully smiled. "You're quite welcome."

"I know you've probably brought some work home with you, but if you can spare a few minutes, I need to talk with you."

"Of course."

After a final glance at Will, they quietly made their way out of his room and downstairs into the living room. "What's up?" Scully asked.

"You know that case John and I are working on, about those murdered women whose killer your student profiled?"

"Yes."

"Well don't ask me how, or why, but this Cadet Hayes has managed to convince John that the guy who killed those women is the same man who murdered his son nine years ago."

Scully's eyes widened in surprise. "Really," she said. "I though Luke was murdered by a man named Bob Harvey."

"According to Hayes, they were in on it together."

"How could Cadet Hayes possibly know that?"

"I don't know, but Monica told me that John is now hell bent on proving the connection."

"Does Jessica know?" Scully asked.

"If she doesn't already, she will very shortly."

The redhead sighed. "I just hope John doesn't do more harm than good by reopening old wounds."

"You think he should leave it alone?" Mulder prompted.

"I'm just saying that he's treading on very thin ice," Scully demurred. "We both know that Luke's death is still an incredibly sensitive subject for both him and Jessica, and unless he has indisputable proof he may be better off not saying anything to her."

"You're the last person I expected to hear that from," Mulder remarked. "After what you went through when I was missing, I'd think you'd be the first person to support his search for answers."

"Right now his search is nothing but a wild goose chase, and in light of the fact that the last time they went through this it cost them their marriage, I can't imagine why John would even consider putting Jessica through that again."

"Their son was murdered, Scully, and for nine years he hasn't been able to find a shred of evidence as to how or why. Now this Hayes kid comes along and practically hands John the killer on a silver platter, and he's just supposed to ignore it because it might upset Jessica?"

"She's your sister, Mulder; I'm surprised you're not more sympathetic to her side of this."

"I'm not being unsympathetic, but just because I love my sister doesn't mean I think John should forgo the chance to find out who killed Luke simply because it's going to upset her. Frankly I have more faith in them than to think they'll let this tear them apart a second time."

Scully shot him an even look. "So you can honestly tell me that if we were in their positions and it was Will's killer we were searching for, you'd pursue every shadow of a hint of a lead regardless of the emotional impact on us, or on me?"

For that Mulder had no response.

 **WASHINGTON D.C. POLICE DEPARTMENT**

The following afternoon, Jessica and Doggett arrived at the D.C. police department and made their way to the viewing room. Doggett entered the darkened room first and stole a glance at the blind- covered window before turning around to face Jessica. She entered the room half a step behind him, her expression guarded as she walked over to stand in front of the window. They were accompanied by a uniformed officer no more than twenty-three, who was obviously drawn to Jessica's extraordinary looks and trying to make a good impression.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, Ma'am," he assured her. "This glass is specially treated so you can see the suspects, but they can't see you."

"She knows the drill, Billings," Doggett snapped. "She's been a cop practically longer than you've been alive."

Billings was duly chastised and flushed in embarrassment as the lieutenant shot her husband an admonishing look. "John…"

Doggett muttered "Sorry" as he walked over to the side of the window. Grasping the cord, he glanced questioningly at Jessica, and at his wife's nod slowly pulled the blinds open. Half a dozen men stood on the opposite side of the one-way glass, and second from the left stood Regali, slouching in place with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. Doggett forced himself to look away from him and at Jessica, who was studying each of the men in silent concentration. He watched her watch them in quiet anticipation, praying that she could – and would – identify Regali.

 _Please nail this guy, Jess,_ he pleaded silently. _Don't let all of this be for nothing._

After what seemed like an eternity, Jessica at last shifted her gaze from the line up and looked to John. Seeing the hope in his eyes, she felt tears well in hers as she shook her head in mute denial.

Shortly thereafter, Jessica stood alone in the hallway outside the viewing room, her eyes locked on Doggett, who was in the room with the detective in charge of the Regali case, David Ashton. The two were having a heated argument, and from Doggett's body language it was clearly not going his way.

 _Don't shoot the messenger, John_ , she chided silently. _He's only doing his job_.

"Jessica?"

She turned at the sound of her name to see Mulder and Scully standing a few feet away and flashed them a sad smile. "Hi, Dana, Fox."

"I take it you weren't able to make an identification?" Mulder surmised.

Jessica shook her head. "I didn't expect to," she allowed, and returned her gaze to Doggett. "You know he doesn't think clearly about this – he can't."

"And you can?" Mulder countered angrily.

His sister winced at his tone, and Scully placed a hand on his arm to silence him as she spoke to her sister-in-law. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be, for both of you."

The lieutenant afforded her a sideways glance. "Difficult for me, unbearable for him. John's a hero at heart – that's why he became a cop. He wants to save the world. Then to lose his own son…"

"He blames himself," Scully said.

Jessica nodded. "He thinks he failed Luke by not being there to protect him. In his mind, he can never do enough, or suffer enough, to atone for what happened."

She paused then, her gaze once again returning to Doggett. He was calmer now, apparently accepting whatever Ashton was telling him. As if sensing her scrutiny, he glanced briefly in her direction, their gazes holding for a moment before he returned his attention to Ashton.

"I can't help him, Dana. As much as I love him, and as much as I want to know the truth, I won't sacrifice our future to try and fix the past. This destroyed our marriage once; I won't let it happen a second time, especially now that we have Grace and Matthew." She glanced at Scully. "If you and Fox can help him find the man who did this, maybe he can finally move on. And so can I."

The moment was interrupted when the door to the viewing room opened and Doggett stepped into the hallway, unaware of the import of the conversation he had just been the subject of.

"They're letting him go?" Jessica prompted.

"For now," Doggett allowed.

"I'm going to pick up the twins at Sarah's," Jessica said. "I'll meet you at home."

Her husband nodded in acknowledgement and Jessica bid farewell to Scully and Mulder before heading down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Doggett turned to Scully. "Tell me you got something."

"As you asked, I compared the wound inflicted on your son to the wounds of these two women."

"And?" Doggett pressed, the desperation Jessica had described moments before clearly visible in his eyes.

"Once again, Cadet Hayes has remarkable insight. There is a similarity in the trajectory of the wounds and the force with which they were delivered.

"Meanin' Regali's the guy."

"Meaning that this is a brilliant forensic deduction," Scully corrected, "but that's all it is. The killer used different weapons, demonstrated no consistent m.o., and had no clear victimology."

"None of what we have would hold up in court," Mulder added.

"Well something out there will," Doggett declared.

"Is finding it worth losing Jessica a second time?" Scully asked.

"Scully..." Mulder cautioned.

"It's all right, Mulder," Doggett assured him. "If you got something to say, Dana, just say it."

"You're so busy trying to prove that Regali killed your son you're not paying attention to what it's doing to Jessica," Scully replied. "She's terrified that the fallout from this investigation will tear you two apart all over again, only this time Grace and Matthew will be caught in the crossfire."

"Who are you to lecture me about how I deal with my family?" Doggett retorted. "You can tuck your son in when you go to bed at night; you can read him a story and kiss him good-night. I close my eyes and I see the broken body of my son lyin' in a field, bloodied and bruised. I see the look on Jess' face when I told her that our only son was dead."

Doggett paused a moment to reign in his temper, knowing Scully was only a target for his wrath and not the source.

"I know you're only tryin to help, Dana, but contrary to what you and Jess seem to believe I won't let our marriage become a casualty of my quest for justice. So just stay outta my way and let me deal with my family as I see fit."

Without waiting for a response, Doggett turned on his heel and strode down the hallway as Scully and Mulder watched him go.

 **FALLS CHURCH**

After settling Grace and Matthew at the table to eat dinner and feeding the dogs, Jessica walked over to the counter and pulled open a small drawer, then retrieved an address book from inside. Skimming through it, she found the entry she sought and held open the book with one hand while she picked up the phone and dialed with the other. After three rings a gruff but endearingly familiar voice answered.

"Tomasick."

"Good afternoon, your grace," Jessica greeted lightly, addressing him by the nickname she had bestowed upon him in relation to his given name.

"Hey, Jessie – how the hell are ya?" Tomasick returned with obvious delight.

"I'm good, Duke. How are things in the neighborhood?"

"Oh, you know, same old sh…stuff," Tomasick amended hastily. "How's that husband of yours? He treatin' you right?"

"John is John," came the evasive response.

"Yeah; to know him is to love him."

"I'm calling because I need your help, Duke. I need everything you can get me on a small-time thug named Nicholas Regali. I'm pretty sure he's a mob stooge."

"I'll get you whatever I can, but you might be better off goin' through Johnny's contacts with the Bureau."

"If I wanted the Bureau involved I would have, but I called you because I need someone I can trust to be discreet."

A pause. "There something' goin' on I should know about, Jessie?" Tomasick asked carefully. "You and Johnny havin' some kind of trouble?"

"We're fine, Duke. This is just something I need to handle without him."

"You're still a lousy liar, Jessie," Tomasick chided. "But if Johnny's doin' something' that's got your knickers in twist, then you do what you gotta do. And if you need me to come down there and give him a kick in the ass, just say the word."

Jessica smiled. "You'll be the first to know," she promised.

"I'll have whatever I find sent to you at your precinct by overnight delivery," Tomasick said. "I assume you're still at Alexandria P.D.?"

"Yes."

"All right then; you should have this in a couple of days."

"Thanks, Duke. I owe you one."

"You don't owe me a thing," Tomasick countered. "Just give those beautiful kids of yours a kiss from their Uncle Duke and tell Johnny that he'd better shape up or I'm on the next plane to Dulles."

"I'll give him the message. Bye, Duke."

"Take care, Jessie."

Jessica replaced the receiver in its cradle and stared at it for a moment before speaking out loud to herself. "Let's see what kind of skeletons you have in your closet, Mister Regali, and if any of them are connected to the murder of my son."

 **FBI HEADQUARTERS**

Doggett was seated behind his desk, the top of which was buried beneath stacks of files. Following Jessica's inability to identify Regali at the D.C. police precinct yesterday afternoon, his frustration over his inability to definitively link him to Luke's death increased. He had half-contemplated heading to Hayes' apartment and demanding more answers, but he had just as quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it would widen the gap between himself and his wife. So instead he had come to work early, to meet with Reyes and go over the information provided to them by Follmer.

"You sure this is all of it?" Doggett asked.

"Everything Brad could pull from the task force files in New York," Reyes allowed.

The former Marine released a frustrated sigh. "Something's not right."

"What do you mean?"

He gestured at the files. "Here's a guy whose name comes up in connection with rackteerin', prostitution, drugs, even murder. Yet all he's got are nickel and dime convictions. Always gets off with a slap on the wrist."

"You know as well as I do mob cases are hard to build," Reyes replied.

"I'm sayin' it doesn't feel like anyone's tryin'," Doggett returned. "I think this guy's greasin' somebody."

Reyes paused, the seriousness of the charge hovering in the air. "You're referring to bribery."

"What else could it be? Either he's some kind of criminal genius or he's got an agent in his pocket."

A flicker of some indiscernible emotion flickered across Reyes' face at his remark, and Doggett shot her a questioning look.

"What? You know something?"

"You know Brad Follmer and I were involved when we were in the New York field office," she began, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. "But I never told you why we broke up."

"I take it you're going to tell me now."

"I think I have to."

Follmer was in his office organizing the case files stacked on his desk when Reyes and Doggett walked in unannounced. Curious about their unexpected visit, he rose to greet them.

"Agents. I was just coming to see you."

Doggett gently closed the office door and then stood in place as Reyes walked over to stand in front of Follmer's desk. The A.D.'s curiosity grew at their odd behavior.

 _Somehow I don't think they're here to ask for a raise_ , he mused.

"We need to talk to you, Assistant Director," Reyes said. "About New York."

The weight of her tone and use of his title was not lost on Follmer, and his curiosity switched to concern. _Something is definitely about to hit the fan._

"Didn't you get the case files?" he asked.

"I mean when we were working in the New York office. You and me."

Follmer glanced from Reyes to Doggett and back again, his confusion obvious. "I'm not following."

"I used to get take out from this place on 11th street, Carlo's. One night six years ago I'm waiting for my order, and I wandered toward the kitchen. I saw you."

"Me?" Follmer prompted warily.

"I saw you talking to a man, a mob guy. I saw you take money from him, Brad. A stack of it."

Follmer stared at her as the depth of her accusation sank in, unable to believe what he was hearing and who it was coming from. From his position at the door, Doggett was searching the other man's face for anything incriminating: a show of fear or anxiety to indicate his guilt. After a long moment, Follmer spoke again, his attention directed to Reyes.

"Six years ago? So rather than come to me for an explanation – or even report me to the Bureau – you ended our relationship and moved away? Is that it?"

"I cared for you, Brad. I'm not defending my actions."

"And now you've come here because you think I'm on the take – and that maybe I was on the take when Agent Doggett's son was murdered. I suppose I should be grateful that this time around our personal relationship means enough for you to actually confront me."

Knowing he was right only made the moment particularly awful, but Reyes steadily held his gaze, owing him at least that much.

"Somebody gave Regali inside help," Doggett interjected evenly. "Covered up his role in my son's death."

Follmer ignored him as he focused on Reyes. "The man you saw me with was a confidential informant. I was giving the money to him…"

"That's not what happened…" Reyes protested.

Follmer continued as if she hadn't spoken. "We were buying his help to infiltrate a crime family. It's all documented; the entire operation. I can prove what I'm saying. Can you?"

Reyes remained silent, not entirely convinced she was wrong but unable to come up with a valid rebuttal, either. Doggett stayed by the door, watching the conversation unfold and yet another lead unravel before him.

"You should have come to me, Monica," Follmer said. "You could have saved us both a lot of unnecessary pain, especially given what I know now."

"What do you know?" Doggett asked.

The A.D. glanced at him. "When you raised concerns about Regali, I looked into the source of the allegations. A cadet at Quantico."

Doggett nodded. "Rudolph Hayes. He's been helpful in this investigation?"

"Rudolph Hayes died in a car accident in 1978," Follmer told him, and picked up a file from his desk.

"What?!" Doggett exclaimed. "Let me see that."

Doggett crossed the room to stand beside Reyes and Follmer handed him the file. "Cadet Hayes' real name is Stuart Mimms of Mendota, Minnesota. His last known residence was the Dakota County Psychiatric Facility."

"He's a mental patient?" Reyes prompted incredulously.

"Diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic and voluntarily institutionalized in 1991," Follmer confirmed. "In 1996, he checked himself out and disappeared."

"How did he get into Quantico using a false identity?"

"We're trying to determine that, but I'm told that he's a genius."

Doggett glanced up from the file, disappointment and defeat etched in his rugged features.

"That's not all," Follmer continued, and met Doggett's gaze. "We can place him in New York City in 1997. The year your son was murdered."

The implication in Follmer's revelation obvious, Reyes glanced at Doggett, whose expression had shifted from defeat to disbelief.

 **GEORGETOWN**

The door to Hayes' apartment building swung open and a half dozen member of the D.C.P.D. SWAT team strode inside. They were followed by Mulder and Doggett, both wearing bullet proof vests. The group quickly but quietly made its way up the stairs until they reached Hayes' floor, and filtered into the hallway toward his apartment. Reaching the door, the SWAT team gripped its door ram and after a couple of bursts, the door jamb splintered and the door flew open. The officers immediately stormed into the apartment, with Mulder and Doggett bringing up the rear. Doggett headed into the living room, Mulder a step behind him, and then stopped short at the sight before him. The walls that had once been covered with the photographs of crime scenes and autopsies were now blank; only pinpricks and staple marks remained. Glancing to his left, Doggett spotted Hayes seated in a chair by the far wall. He was unusually calm, and the blank stare he gave Doggett and Mulder indicated they had been expected. Turning his full attention to Hayes, Doggett attempted to make eye contact with him, hoping to find the answers to his questions. But the SWAT team surrounded Hayes and slapped on handcuffs before leading him out of the apartment. Doggett again glanced at the empty walls, the absence of the photos another question to add to his list.

"You okay, John?" Mulder asked softly.

Doggett offered no response as he stared after Hayes' retreating form.

 **MARK MOONEY'S BAR**

Exiting the bar, Regali started through the parking lot as he withdrew a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it up. Halfway across the lot, he slowed, noticing a familiar face seated in the parked car two spaces adjacent to his. Smiling to himself, he walked over and slid into the passenger seat, and took a long drag off his cigarette before speaking.

"Nice car. I remember when they had you banging around in a ten-year-old Impala. Now look at you, Mister Assistant Director."

"You got lucky," Follmer snapped. "He has another suspect."

"You came here to tell me that?" Regali asked.

Follmer swallowed, clearly nervous. "There's something I need to know. Were you involved, in any way, with the death of John Doggett's son?"

"Last time I checked I wasn't the one who answered to you."

"I need to know," Follmer pressed.

"I told you, you don't ask – "

"WERE YOU INVOLVED?!" Follmer exploded

Regali was clearly taken aback by the intensity of Follmer's outburst, and stared at him for a moment in silence, curious but not intimidated. Finally he answered the younger man's question.

"Course not. What kind of guy do you think I am?"

Follmer met his stare, unsure if he was lying but now no longer caring. "I'm done, Regali."

"Done?" Regali echoed.

"With you," Follmer clarified. "With this."

"What happen? You suddenly grow a back bone or develop a conscience?"

"Whatever I owe, it's been paid."

Regali considered him for a moment. "And if I say no, what're you gonna do, Assistant Director?"

 _Send your smirking ass to hell in a hand basket_ , Follmer thought, but wisely did not voice the thought aloud. Yet part of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Regali flashed him a knowing smile.

"You know, if I'm you, right now I'm thinking 'I could pop this guy right here, and who's gonna know if it's not self-defense?'"

Follmer remained silent but his expression made it obvious Regali had hit his target.

"Let me remind you, Assistant Director that if anything happens to me, a videotape lands at The Washington Post. This videotape shows young Brad Follmer taking cash from yours truly to make an indictment go away."

Follmer shot him an icy glare but continued to hold his tongue, knowing that Regali had him right where he wanted him.

"You're done when I say you're done. Don't forget it."

Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Regali flicked it onto the floor and let himself out of the car.

 **WASHINGTON D.C. POLICE DEPARTMENT**

Inside the viewing room, Doggett and Mulder were talking with David Ashton when the door opened, and Jessica walked inside, Scully a half step behind her. She was clearly not pleased at having to go through this scenario again, but she forced a neutral tone as she addressed the others.

"Gentlemen," she greeted simply.

"You don't have to do this, Jessica," Scully said softly, ignoring the glower Doggett shot in her direction.

The lieutenant graced her with a faint smile. "Yes, I do."

Ashton walked over to draw the blinds and Jessica positioned herself next to Doggett in front of the window. Reaching over, Doggett took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, the silent gesture of support a tradition between them. Jessica glanced down at their intertwined hands, then shifted her gaze to meet his and gave him a small smile before squeezing his hand back.

The blinds opened to reveal five men standing against the wall, each one holding a small placard with their respective number from one to five on the front. Doggett watched her watch them, expecting to see the same lack of recognition that he had the previous day. To his surprise, however, his wife released her hold on his hand and stepped closer to the glass, focusing on one man in particular. Following her gaze, Doggett realized she had singled out Hayes, whose face was as expressionless as ever. Doggett shifted his gaze to Jessica's, whose expression mirrored the surprise in his.

Inside the interrogation room, Jessica and Doggett stood in the shadows, watching in tense silence as Scully and Mulder questioned Hayes.

Taking a step toward him, Scully slid a file folder across the table. "It's all in there. How you defrauded the FBI with a false identity, using it to gain admittance to the Academy. We know who you really are, and about your history with schizophrenia. And we know you orchestrated all of this to get close to Agent Doggett."

Hayes was the picture of calm, unflinching under the truth of Scully's remarks. "I've been recognized. By Agent Doggett's wife, who failed to identify Nicholas Regali in the same room yesterday."

"Because he didn't kill their son," Mulder responded. "You did."

"That's one explanation," Hayes allowed.

"That's the explanation," Doggett interjected, his tone dangerously low.

"No, it's not."

Doggett walked over to bang his hands on the table. "Then what is the explanation, huh? What is it?"

Hayes slowly lifted his gaze to Doggett's, as calm as the older man was agitated. "I told you before, Agent Doggett. I studied the photos of your son's death. They called to me. I don't know why. But it was a message, and I listened."

"You killed Agent Doggett's son – " Scully said again.

"I studied his case, obsessively. I'm a schizophrenic, that's what we do. We obsess." He paused. "I watched Agent Doggett. I watched his wife, too. She saw me. More than once. Ask her."

As Scully and Mulder exchanged a look, Doggett reluctantly drew his wife into the conversation. "Jess?" he prompted.

The lieutenant came over to stand beside him. "He seems familiar," she allowed. "But why or where I've seen him before, I don't know."

Doggett glanced back at Hayes. "If this is true, then why'd you lie about your real identity?"

"Would you have listened to me otherwise?" Hayes countered. "A mental patient with insight into your son's death? I wanted to get close to you, Agent Doggett. To help you."

A sudden realization came to Doggett then. "You're the one who gave me the tip about that woman's body in the wall."

"Yes. Regali associated with the man who abducted your son. I watched him, too. I called you so that you could catch him." A beat. "I told you it would be hard to prove."

Doggett stared at Hayes, his odd reasoning somehow making perfect sense. Yet it still left him with more questions than answers, and no resolution for his pain and frustration. For her part, Jessica had heard enough and after shooting a final agitated look at Hayes, she wordlessly left the room.

"I've received another message," Hayes said softly to no one in particular. "I'd like to go home now, to the institution."

Mulder grabbed his arm and pulled Hayes to his feet, then escorted him out of the room. Once they were gone, Scully spoke to Doggett.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

"Jess was right," Doggett muttered. "This was just another wild goose chase that ripped open old wounds and left us empty handed."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I," Doggett replied. "I'm goin' to track down my wife."

Doggett headed out of the interrogation room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Reyes and Follmer, who had arrived just as Mulder was escorting Hayes out of the building.

"John?" Reyes queried.

He ignored her as he continued his trek down the hallway, and she glanced questioningly at Scully.

"Well?" Follmer prompted.

Scully shook her head in silent denial, feeling the frustration and agony of Jessica and Doggett's defeat. "He told us a story. Whether it's true…"

She left the thought unspoken, not knowing what else could be said.

"In other words, we're nowhere," Reyes surmised. "Again."

Releasing her own frustrated sigh, Reyes fell into step beside Scully and they headed toward the exit. Follmer stayed where he was, watching them leave with an indiscernible emotion etched on his face.

 **MARK MOONEY'S BAR**

Parking her Expedition near the entrance to the bar, Jessica grabbed her jacket from the back of the truck and pulled it on over her shoulder holster before heading inside the bar. A few moments later Doggett's truck pulled up beside her SUV and he too disappeared inside the bar. Across the street, Follmer was seated in his own car watching the Doggetts' arrival.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself.

Inside the bar, Jessica scanned the room until she spotted Regali seated at the far end of the bar. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her jacket to ensure her gun wasn't visible and walked over to stand beside him.

"Nicholas Regali?"

Exhaling a mouthful of cigarette smoke, he glanced over at the sound of his name and did a double take at the sight of Jessica. "Hello, beautiful," he greeted, looking her up and down in lustful appreciation. "I don't know what you're selling but I'm definitely buying."

"Get away from him, Jess," Doggett said from behind them.

Regali and Jessica turned to see Doggett standing a step behind Jessica, and Regali flashed him a smug smile. "Well, well…it's the FBI agent. I must say your taste in partners has definitely improved."

"She's my wife," Doggett corrected curtly.

"Really…well now I am impressed."

"What are you doing here, John?" Jessica asked.

"I was gonna ask you the same question," Doggett responded.

"I'm here to get some answers, and unfortunately Mister Regali here is the only one who can give them to me."

"What kind of answers you looking for, gorgeous?" Regali inquired.

Jessica met his gaze. "I want to know what happened to my son."

"Ah, so you're the mother. My condolences."

To the surprise of both men, Jessica slammed her hand down on the bar. "Don't patronize me, you slimy son of a bitch!" she exclaimed. "Tell me what happened to my son!"

Doggett put his hands on her arms in an attempt to calm her down as Regali took another drag off his cigarette. "I don't know who killed your son, gorgeous, but I have a thing for blondes, especially a good-looking one like you. So I'll tell you and hubby here how it could have happened. Hypothetically."

Doggett felt Jessica tense under his hands and tightened his grip ever so slightly as they waited in anxious silence for Regali to continue. He took a final drag before dousing his cigarette in the ashtray and returned his attention to couple in front of him.

"Say there was a guy, a businessman. Good-looking, smart…like me. But say this businessman, in the course of doing his business, has to associate with any number of questionable characters. You know the types; thugs, perverts, sickos. Like…Bob Harvey, for example."

Both Jessica and John were stone still, their gazes locked on Regali as he spun his tale. His tone was casual, as if he were trying to explain to a friend how an unfortunate accident came to pass.

"Say this Bob Harvey, he likes little boys. One day he sees a cute little blond boy riding a bike, and he just can't stand it. So he grabs the boy and takes him to his place, only he doesn't tell this businessman what he's doing. And then the businessman walks in on them. You know what I'm saying, Beautiful? The boy sees the businessman's face! The businessman who never did anything to this boy, but was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now when this boy returns to his own home, who's he gonna say did bad things to him? That's a problem. Well, every problem has a solution, right?"

Regali finished his tale and fell silent, not taking any joy in the revelation of Luke's fate but merely acting as if what he told them were common logic. Jessica began to tremble under Doggett's hold, her features twisted with pain as she made a valiant attempt not to have an emotional breakdown in front of her son's murderer. Ignoring Regali, Doggett turned her around and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her hair as he did so.

"Hold on, sweetheart. Don't do this, not here."

Her efforts to maintain control only caused her to tremble harder, her face buried in Doggett's shoulder, and he tightened his hold as Regali downed the last of his drink and started out of the bar. After a moment Jessica exhaled heavily and forced herself to pull back, lifting her hands to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.

"I need you to wait here for just a second," Doggett requested gently. "Can you do that?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Jessica nodded in mute acknowledgement, and Doggett pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing his hold on her and turning toward the doorway. As he started toward the exit, his right hand slid to his holster and Jessica saw him unbuckle his gun. It struck her instantly what he intended to do, and as much as she felt Regali deserved to die, she could not and would not allow it be at her husband's hand.

"John, don't!" she called after him.

The warning went either unheard or unheeded and Doggett vanished out the door, his gun now in his hand. Swearing under her breath, the lieutenant ran to catch him, and just as she reached the exit she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Dashing outside, she discovered Doggett standing just a couple of feet from the entrance, Regali's body face down on the pavement perhaps ten feet away. Twenty yards to the left of them, a woman stood beside her car, screaming in near hysteria as she pointed at something off to her side.

"Oh my God! He shot him! He just took out his gun and shot him!"

From the confusion on her husband's face it was obvious he had not been the shooter, and they both followed the woman's gesture to see Follmer standing ten feet away from Regali's body, clutching his own gun.

 **ALEXANDRIA POLICE DEPARTMENT**

Following the shooting of Regali at the bar, Doggett returned to the Hoover Building with Follmer to meet with Kersh about Regali's death. As for Jessica, she had returned to work in an effort to put the events of the day out of her mind until she and John could deal with them in private. Heading into her office, she noticed a large federal express package sitting in the center of her desk, and glancing at sender's address, realized it was the information on Regali she had requested from Duke Tomasick.

"Better late than never," she muttered aloud.

Settling herself in her chair, she retrieved a pair of scissors from a desk drawer and opened the package. Inside were several police files, on top of which was a small envelope with her name handwritten across the front. Using her finger to tear it open, she withdrew the note inside and recognized Duke's choppy handwriting.

Jessie – I've enclosed the files you requested on this Regali guy, along with some extra information

I think you'll find interesting. It concerns an agent from the FBI's New York office that was involved

in each of Regali's cases. Apparently money talks, and Regali's must have called this agent's name.

Give my regards to Johnny. I miss you guys. – Duke

Replacing the note inside the envelope, Jessica set it aside and shifted her attention to the files. With Regali now dead after having all but confessed to killing Luke, Jessica saw no reason to read through every file completely. But given Duke's mention of the possible collusion between Regali and the Bureau, she began scanning the court papers regarding the dismissal of each charge, and the same agent was listed in every file. It took her close to half an hour to read through the files, but once she had it only took all of thirty seconds for the implications of what she had read to register.

"He was on Regali's payroll," she muttered aloud. "The greedy piece of garbage actually took money to let this lowlife back onto the streets."

Rising to her feet, she quickly stuffed the files back into the envelope before picking up the phone and dialing the Bureau's main number. The switchboard operator answered on the second ring.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"This is Lieutenant Jessica Doggett from the Alexandria police department. I need to speak with Deputy Director Kersh immediately."

"I'm sorry but he's unavailable right now. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Yes. It is imperative that he return my call as soon as possible," Jessica told her, and gave her the number for her cellular phone.

"I'll make certain he receives the message, Lieutenant."

"Thank you."

Jessica hung up the phone, and shoving the fed ex envelope under her arm, grabbed her purse and exited her office.

 **HOOVER BUILDING**

Having just returned from relinquishing Hayes to the authorities from the Dakota County Psychiatric Facility, Mulder walked into FBI headquarters just as Jessica arrived.

"Hey, little sister," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Assistant Director Skinner, now."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll explain in the elevator."

Mulder nodded and ushered her across the main lobby to the elevators, and as they rode up to the floor where Skinner's office was located, Jessica gave him a brief summary of what she had uncovered in the files from New York.

"John mentioned that he thought Regali had an inside source," Mulder replied when she had finished. "But he said it never panned out."

"Well it has now," Jessica responded.

Stepping off the elevator, they started down the hallway just as Skinner emerged from his office, talking to his assistant and gesturing at a file she was holding.

"Try putting another call into Doctor Barnett and see if he can get us a copy of the medical report," he said.

"Yes, sir."

Skinner glanced up then and Mulder and Jessica stopped a couple of feet in front of him.

"Agent Mulder, Lieutenant Doggett," he greeted. "You two look like you have something on your minds."

"Yes, sir," Mulder confirmed. "Could we please speak with you in private for a moment?"

The A.D.'s curiosity was peeked. "Of course. Let's step into my office."

He gestured for them to precede him, and Jessica and Mulder headed into his office. They seated themselves in the chairs in front of his desk, and Skinner shut the door before crossing over to settle in his own chair.

"Before we get started, I'd just like to express my sympathies to you and Agent Doggett, Lieutenant. I heard about what happened with Rudolph Hayes and I'm sorry he turned out to be a fraud."

"I appreciate the sentiment, sir," Jessica replied, "but as it turns out, he may not have been so far off the mark after all."

Skinner frowned, and Jessica handed him the Fed Ex envelope. "These files were forwarded to me from a friend with the NYPD after I requested information on Regali's activities. If you scan the release records from each case, you'll understand why I'm here."

"There's a mole in the Bureau, sir," Mulder added, "and he stinks so bad I can smell him from here."

The older man shot his subordinate a disapproving frown before shifting his attention to the files. Mulder and Jessica waited in patient silence as he read through them, Jessica's instruction of what to look for cutting his reading time to just over ten minutes. Once he was finished, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"Are you certain that these files are legitimate?" he asked.

"Absolutely positive, sir," Jessica assured him. "My source is a career policeman and is well respected within the department."

Skinner reached over and picked up his phone, then dialed the extension for Kersh's secretary.

"Deputy Director's office."

"This is A.D. Skinner. Is Deputy Director Kersh still in a meeting?"

"Yes, sir."

Skinner hung up the phone and glanced back at Mulder and Jessica. "Let's go."

Inside Kersh's office, Doggett was listening in stoic silence as Follmer explained to Kersh his reasons for shooting Regali.

"When I saw him reach into his pocket I assumed he was reaching for a gun and I acted in self-defense," Follmer said.

"What made you think he would be reaching for a gun, Mister Follmer?" Kersh asked. "Would Nicholas Regali have a reason to want to shoot you?"

Follmer was saved from having to respond by a knock at the door, and having given instructions to his assistant that he was not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency, Kersh frowned at the unexpected intrusion.

"Come in," he called out.

The door opened, and Skinner walked into the office, then stepped aside to allow Jessica and Mulder to enter. Once they were all in, he closed the door and the trio approached Kersh's desk. Doggett shot his wife a questioning look, which she ignored as she leveled an icy glare at Follmer.

"Walter," Kersh greeted informally. "I assume you have a good reason for this interruption."

"Yes, sir," Skinner said. "Lieutenant Doggett has something I think you should look at, which is directly related to A.D. Follmer's shooting of Nicholas Regali."

Kersh glanced at Jessica. "Lieutenant," he acknowledged. "What have you got?"

She took a step forward and handed him the files. "These were forwarded to me from a contact in the NYPD after I requested information on Nicholas Regali," she explained. "If you look at the Notice of Dismissal in each file, you'll notice that they all have one thing in common. Every one of them was signed by then Field Agent Brad Follmer."

Kersh skimmed through the papers, his quick perusal confirming the lieutenant's statement, and he shifted his gaze to Follmer. "That's certainly an interesting coincidence, Mister Follmer. Do you have an explanation you'd care to share with us?"

Follmer squirmed in his seat. "Sir, its common knowledge within the Bureau that I served on the organized crime division while working in the New York office," he evaded. "I must have signed hundreds of those forms."

"But how many of them did you sign for a man that you claim up until today you had no direct contact with?" Mulder countered.

Follmer offered no response, and Doggett looked to Kersh. "Sir, may I take a look at those?" he requested.

Kersh handed the files to Doggett, who quickly scanned them before shooting an accusatory glare at the man beside him. "I don't recall seein' these Notices in the files you gave to me and Monica," he said pointedly.

Again Follmer did not respond, and this time Jessica addressed him. "I'm curious as to how you sleep at night, Mister Follmer," she remarked.

"Excuse me?"

"I just wonder if it at all troubles you that my son and those two women from the bars are dead because you let Regali walk in order to add a couple of zeros to your bank account balance," Jessica clarified casually. "Of course, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Who knows how many other people Regali has killed that we merely haven't discovered yet?"

Follmer hastily tried to do spin control. "With all due respect, Lieutenant…"

"Shut up!" she snapped, her demeanor shifting from casual indifference to barely restrained rage in the space of a few seconds. The force of her anger prompted Follmer to rise to his feet and take a step backward, as Doggett rose from his chair and walked around him to stand by his wife.

"Don't you dare stand there and lie to my face about what you did," Jessica cautioned. She took a step toward him, but her husband's hand on her arm halted her in her tracks. "You took money from a man who was a career criminal and known front man for the mob in order to finance your own career. Because of your greed, my son was stolen from me, physically and sexually assaulted and ultimately murdered. One way or another you're going to pay for that."

"Lieutenant…"

Follmer had barely gotten her rank out of his mouth before Doggett planted his fist in the other man's face, knocking him to the ground.

"Save it, you son of a bitch!" Doggett snarled. "If you so much as utter another syllable, I'll kill you right here!"

"John, don't," Mulder said, and placed himself between Doggett and Follmer.

"In light of this new evidence, Mister Follmer, I have no choice but to suspend you immediately pending a formal investigation into your connection to Regali," Kersh replied.

"Yes, sir," Follmer responded simply.

"Assistant Director Skinner, why don't you and Agent Mulder confiscate Mister Follmer's badge and firearm, and escort him to his office where he can retrieve his personal belongings," Kersh instructed. "I'll notify the Director of the situation and assign a task force to begin the investigation."

Skinner nodded in acknowledgement and he and Mulder each took hold of one of Follmer's arms.

"You heard the man, Bradley," Mulder said. "Let's go."

Follmer shot him an annoyed glare as he and Skinner led him from the room. Once they were gone, Kersh addressed the Doggetts.

"Well I'm not quite sure what to say to the two of you," he began. "An apology doesn't begin to cover the travesties you've been through in the past few days, or nine years ago. But for whatever its worth, I am truly sorry."

"Thank you, sir," Jessica responded softly.

"John, why don't you take a few days of personal leave and spend some time with your family?" Kersh suggested. "I'm sure Agent Mulder and A.D. Skinner can handle things with Follmer."

Doggett nodded. "I appreciate that, sir."

Placing his hand on the small of Jessica's back, Doggett began to usher her out of Kersh's office, but when they reached the door, Kersh called to him.

"Agent Doggett…""

He turned expectantly.

"Just out of curiosity, and off the record, if Follmer hadn't been at the bar today, would you have shot Regali yourself?"

The ex-Marine was clearly taken aback by the question, but nonetheless met the Deputy Director's gaze steadily as he responded with a simple "Yes."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the office with Jessica.

 **EPILOGUE: MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA – THREE DAYS LATER**

Following Kersh's suggestion, Doggett had taken a few days of personal leave and he and Jessica had retreated to her family's second home in California. Situated on a mile-long stretch of private beach and two acres of private land, it was the perfect place for them to recoup and recover from the events of the last several days. The twins were staying with Sarah Caldwell, while her sons Cameron and Eric were rotating dog-sitting duty for Spooky and Semper Fi. Although they had left the phone number to the house with Mulder and Scully, barring an emergency they were not to be contacted.

As the sun sank into the sea at the end of another beautiful day, the couple was seated on a small teak bench on the edge of a cliff overlooking the water. At their feet lay a pair of white roses and a sterling silver box bearing the following inscription: "Luke John Doggett: 1/9/89 – 8/13/97". Fifty yards to their left, a stone staircase led down to the beach, and in the still of dusk, they could hear the waves breaking on the shore.

"I'll say this much for the West Coast," Doggett remarked. "They certainly have better weather than back home."

"All the better to work on your tan," Jessica returned lightly.

"In your case that should be sunburn," he responded. "But you've always looked good in red."

"Thank you, I think."

Doggett smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Before we head down to the beach, there's something I need to say to you," Jessica replied.

"That bein'?"

"I'm sorry."

Doggett's surprise was obvious. "What are you sorry about?" he asked.

"For not trusting you to know what you were doing by reopening Luke's case," she replied. "I should have had enough faith in you to know that you wouldn't have gone back down that road unless you knew it would lead somewhere. I know it was as difficult for you as it was for me, and I'm sorry I didn't realize that until it was almost too late."

He lifted his hand and gently pressed his palm against her cheek. "You've got nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I'm sorry that I didn't come clean with you from the start about what was goin' on, and that you spent even a second worryin' that it might break us up again. You're the light of my soul, Jess; nothing's gonna touch that as long as I'm alive."

She flashed him a warm smile. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

"I assure you the feeling's entirely mutual."

Husband and wife exchanged a kiss, then rose to their feet and made their way to the water's edge. Jessica carried the white roses, while Doggett held the sterling silver case that contained Luke's ashes. Stepping into the surf only far enough to allow the water to swirl about their ankles, they exchanged a small smile before Jessica spoke.

"I hope somehow you can hear me, Luke," she began. "Daddy and I are here because it's time for us to finally accept that your place is with God. Nine years ago an act of evil stole you from us, and we promised you then that somehow we would find a way to bring the person or persons responsible to justice. It took us longer than we expected, but we managed to keep that promise. Now we have to let you go. You have a brother and a sister now, sweet pea, and we love them very much. But you were our first born, and even though you were only given to us for a short while, you were our golden child. You will always hold a special place in our hearts, and someday when your siblings are old enough, we will find a way to tell them about you."

She paused then, and tossed the first rose into the water, watching the waves carry it away before continuing.

"This first flower is the joy and love you gave to us during your time on earth. It symbolizes the goodness and purity that were reflective of who you were."

Again she paused, and tossed the second flower into the waves.

"The second flower is for peace, and serenity. Daddy and I have that now, and we know that God has given it to you as He keeps you close to him until we meet again. Fly with the angels, my heart. We love you."

Finishing her farewell, Jessica ignored the tears trickling down her cheeks as she glanced at Doggett, seeing that he, too, was crying. They exchanged another tentative smile before Doggett held the box out in front of him and tipped it over, scattering Luke's ashes into the wind and across the water. After it was emptied, Doggett pulled his arm back and hurled the box as far as he could throw it, and it disappeared under the water with a soft plunk. Turning to Jessica, he wordlessly pulled her into his arms for a fierce hug and buried his face in her neck as he held her to him.

 **Finis**


End file.
